Dark Days
( It tells genuine stories)
It is blank
The vision inside me sank
Numbness shuffles
In every inch of my body
Won’t this mystical
Dark night never just end??
Toads who I feel are barking,
clouds pass, without even giving a warning,
Mumbles of sounds constantly beating my earlobes,
A night full of pain ,and me,
covered
in natural robes amongst the shivering plantain.
Touch me not,
withers in the atmosphere although dark
I can see untrustworthiness featuring everywhere,
Hail! The intensity of my tears burning down my face
Decorated with innocent looks, just
Like a forlorn, lonely flower vase.
The night is pitch dark,
Hope not to swallow my hair instead of a tree’s bark.
I cry in the mist,
Probably this world’s lost trust,
Probably time tests hope with people so unjust.
Probably sewing me inside a lake,
drowning me with a thrust,
To which I will not give in whatsoever.
To which probably I would fight back with hope, love and tears,
To which , the pages of my buried leaves aren't decorated quite enough,
To which, I am not sorry for anything, even though life poses to be tough.
